Completely Irrational
by deaka
Summary: Ben overhears his parents arguing about his training. Luke, Mara, Ben, before LotF. One shot.


Title: "Completely Irrational"**  
**Timeframe: Between Dark Nest and Legacy of the Force**  
**Category: Missing scene, family, character study**  
**Setting: Jedi Academy on Ossus  
Characters: Ben Skywalker, Luke Skywalker, Mara Jade Skywalker

Summary: Ben overhears a discussion between his parents about his training with Jacen

* * *

"… I don't know why you can't look at this as a positive thing…"

"… refusing to see the worrying aspects…"

Ben halted where he stood, halfway down the short corridor in his family's Ossus residence. The family study was at the end of the hall. Mom was working in there – alone, Ben had thought. She had to work on the accounts, she had said.

"… comes down to it, he isn't trustworthy. That's all there is to it – "

"… qualifies as trustworthy, exactly?"

Ben frowned. He recognised his father's voice, but shied from the tone of the voices within the room. His parents argued sometimes – with others, in political meetings on Coruscant Ben got dragged to from time to time, and in Council meetings often – but he'd never heard them turn that tone on each other.

"… about a decision that's going to affect the rest of his life…"

"… _know_ that, that's why…"

Ben hesitated, then cautiously edged forward a step. His parents were both carefully controlled – they were always cautious with their emotions, for his benefit or by habit, he wasn't sure – but right now, they felt different. Ben felt for the shape of the emotional barriers they'd each erected, allowed himself to sense the tendrils leaking around that control. Dad was mostly frustrated, with shades of something like confusion, while Mom was angry, and – oddly – there were shades of something else there in her feelings, something like hurt or upset.

"… want him to reach his potential, then it has to be this way."

"… make this into an ultimatum!"

"… make me the criminal here."

"… just needs time…"

"… finally opening up, and it's with Jacen, and you don't like that – "

Ben twisted his lips together tightly, and stopped in place.

"… saying I'm somehow resentful?"

"… put words in my mouth!"

Ben scuffed the carpet with his shoe. The sole was coming away where he'd been scrambling across the dust-boulders with some of the students from the north enclave earlier. He kicked again, and it came loose further. He glared at the dusty mark on the carpet.

He had felt uncertain about staying here, about listening, but if they were talking about him, then why shouldn't he? They shouldn't discuss him as though he was one of the crèche younglings. He had a right to hear it, almost. Didn't he? It was his life they were arguing over.

"… so obsessed with perfection…"

"… does that mean?"

"… victim of your need to be perfect …"

"… wary of Jacen because he has a broader range of experience than you were able to access…"

"… know nothing about where he's been or what he's learned, and you want to…"

More feelings were leaking around the barriers his parents had erected. More hurt. More anger. Ben sank to a crouch. He imagined the control like a transparent drinking bulb, filled with boiling, flashing colours, bright angry red and harsh orange and flat black-blue. He pictured putting a lid on it, trapping the colours inside, and covering it, so that he couldn't see the colours or the bulb.

Would that be better? He still knew they were there. Maybe he should leave, because he didn't want to hear this. But it was about him, so didn't he have the right?

Ben chewed his bottom lip, unthinkingly. Then he bit his tongue instead, because he was sure that biting his lip made him look younger than he was.

"… worried about being subverted than you are about the welfare of your son."

"… accusations, when I'm trying to discuss this…"

The voices abruptly fell away. Ben heard his mother's voice say, "Luke—", but then the door opened and his father strode out.

Ben blinked, startled, as the door slid shut behind his father. He could tell immediately that he was angry. Even though he had his feelings closed off and guarded, it was obvious from his face – there was something about his mouth and eyes. He was pulling sharply at the front of his cloak as he stepped through the doorway. It was one of his longer, heavier ones, meaning it was cold outside. Then his eyes fell on Ben.

He stilled, and his face changed, flickering to shock. Ben looked back at him. "Ben," his father said after a moment. He looked at Ben, blinked and glanced toward the door to the study, then looked back. "Come with me," he said, and indicated down the hall.

Ben moved reluctantly, dragging his feet. Dad touched his shoulder, lightly but firmly, forcing him to walk properly, propelling him forward.

They reached the other end of the hallway, near the front entrance. Dad turned his head and looked down at Ben. Ben glanced up, then away. He opened himself a tiny crack in the Force at the same time, and was confused to find his father didn't feel angry – not at him. Unless he was shielding it for some reason?

"Let's take a walk," Dad said decisively, in the same tone that he used when chairing unruly meetings. It wasn't abrupt, but it didn't invite argument. He grabbed Ben's jacket from the closet and held it up; unenthusiastically, Ben stuck his arm into one sleeve and then the other. His father adjusted it over his shoulders before reaching to key open the door. He tilted his head to indicate Ben should go through first.

The wind was blowing quite coldly outside. Ben tugged his jacket tighter; Dad had pulled out his warmest one, made of padded synth-down, impervious to the wind.

Dad passed him, descending and stopping to the left of the steps. He stood and waited for Ben.

They walked in silence for a while. The wind blew through the young trees hemming the path. Ben saw a hairless gokob scurry across the path ahead, disappearing into the purplish undergrowth.

"How are you, Ben?" his father said at last. "I missed you while I was on Coruscant."

"And Mom?" Ben demanded.

"And Mom." Dad echoed him, but sounded distant. Or maybe distracted. "Of course."

"Why were you fighting?"

"We were having a discussion."

"You were not. You were fighting. Don't lie."

His father gave him a brief hard look. "Watch your tone, there."

"You were fighting over me. Training with Jacen."

His father frowned and seemed to examine the path ahead, his eyes skimming over the trees.

"You don't want me to be apprenticed with him. But Mom does."

"We want the best thing for you, Ben."

"Why don't you like Jacen?"

His father breathed out. They walked a little way. "I don't dislike Jacen," Dad said at last. "But I do have concerns about him. And before you ask—" he held up a hand, cutting Ben off as he opened his mouth, "—I can't tell you personal things about other Jedi, because those things aren't mine to tell. But you remember the war, Ben. Even though you were an infant, you felt the suffering that occurred across the galaxy. Jacen lived and endured the worst of that suffering, in a way that few other Jedi did. People carry hurt like that with them, and sometimes it can affect them in strange ways. It's not an easy thing to predict."

"Mom's not concerned, though."

"She…" Dad stopped, and appeared to consider his words. He did that, Ben had noticed, when he was particularly concerned about how his words might affect someone. Ben had often seen him choose his words carefully in giving advice to other Jedi. "Your mother has had some concerns in the past. But she is very anxious to see that you learn how to use your Force skills properly. Without training, it would be very easy for someone to manipulate you through the Force. If Jacen makes you comfortable as a teacher, if he can help you to understand your powers, then she feels you should learn from him."

"You don't think that?"

Another pause. "I think," Dad said, "that I am pleased that you are beginning to grow into your abilities the Force."

"I don't get it. If that's true, why are you and Mom fighting?"

Dad glanced at him, an oddly assessing look, then shifted his gaze to the path ahead. "Your mother is one of those people who carries pain from their past, Ben. It means she believes very strongly that you should have access to every weapon that's available to you, in case you need to defend yourself and to prevent you ever being manipulated or used against your wishes. It also means that she wants you to have access to all of your skills and abilities as soon as possible, because she worries that there could come a time when we might not be here to protect you. For whatever reason. The life she's had has trained her to prepare for every possible contingency. And she wants you to be prepared as well."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No. Not necessarily." Ben watched as his father ran a hand through his hair. "It just means that we have a different view of things occasionally."

"Why get so angry about it?"

His father looked resigned. "I'm afraid your mom and I are exceptionally good at getting angry from time to time."

"That's not very Jedi-like."

"No, it's not." Dad sighed. "I guess I'll have to assign myself some meditation sessions."

Ben wasn't entirely sure he was joking. "Mom, too. She was mad as well."

"Mm. She'd love that." Dad actually looked kind of cheerful at the idea. His parents, Ben thought, were weird.

"Why did you walk out?" he asked.

"Because I was angry," his father said. "And I didn't want to continue the discussion while I was angry. Your mom is good at honing in on certain things." He stopped talking then, rubbed his jaw instead and looked away, and Ben wondered what he meant.

"Are you still angry?" he asked.

"Not so much," Dad said.

"Do you still want to stop me training with Jacen?"

Dad looked at him closely. "I didn't say I wanted to stop your training."

Ben frowned. "What was the point, then?"

His father shook his head. "It's complicated," he said. "So long as you're comfortable with Jacen, and you trust him, I see no problem with you continuing to work with him for the time being." He paused. "He isn't a master, though. Keep that in mind."

"Because the Council hasn't made him one."

"That's right." Dad looked at the sky, where an airspeeder was passing over. "Time to head back. Your mom will be wondering where we are."

Mom was sitting on the front steps when they returned, her chin resting on her hand. Her hair was messy, tangled from being blown about in the wind. She lifted her eyebrows at them as they approached. "Kidnapping, now?" she said.

Ben didn't think she still sounded mad. Well, not _that_ mad. Not as mad as she could be. He was a little glad not to have that tone of voice pointed at him, though.

His father stepped across. Mom came her feet, opening her mouth, but Dad caught her with an arm around her waist and kissed her solidly, his cloak flicking in the wind. Ben wrinkled his nose half-heartedly. Mom drew back, looking startled. "We have a very intelligent son," Dad said.

Mom cast Ben a confused look.

He wasn't sure whether to be embarrassed or mystified. "Dad," he complained.

His father gave him a smile, then looked back at Mom. Ben sensed a strange, half-familiar flicker between them in the Force, like a snatch of private music on the edge of hearing. Mom's face seemed to soften.

Dad squeezed her hand, then turned and climbed the stairs. "Who's hungry?" he said, over his shoulder. "I think a warm dinner sounds good."

Mom gave Ben a quizzical look, but followed Dad. "Hurry up inside, Ben," she said. "It's cold out here." She hastened her pace, and caught up with Dad in the entryway.

Ben ascended the steps more slowly, letting them draw ahead in the hall. He took off his coat and hung it in the closet.

Mom was talking, up ahead. Ben opened himself to the Force, just a little, and felt the normal intensity of the flickering ebb and flow of his parents' emotions.

Ben kicked off his boots, and went to join them.

-end-


End file.
